Dark Sex In Japan – 4

I think a word of caution is in order here. This final part of the Katsumi story is not for everyone. It’s a bit strong, and I don’t mean sexually. The whole story has been about a troubled young woman and what she is capable of/feels compelled to do. I can’t spell it out much more specifically than that without spoiling the ending but if you’ve read Parts 1, 2 and 3 you’ll get a flavour of what I’m alluding to.

She had felt his eyes on the back of her neck for weeks. Every time he walked the floor of the department store Katsumi was aware of his gaze. When she stole a glance at him she knew she was not imagining it.

How lucky she was to have obtained the position here, her employment record was less than perfect, edited heavily to smooth over the more unpalatable incidents. Now she had this respectable job, quite well paid and stress free. Now he was taking an interest in her. He was about fifteen years her senior, handsome and successful. She had heard the other girls talking about him, how he had risen from mailroom boy, through the accounts department, to deputy store manager in only ten years, and now, due to the failing health of the venerable incumbent manager, was effectively running the business.

The speculation was rife. “He’s unmarried, at his age! He’s not, you know, gay, is he?” “No I heard he has a lot of girlfriends, but they don’t last long.” “Oh you mean like Shizuka from the second floor, she left just after that didn’t she …”

Early on Friday morning Katsumi was approached by her supervisor. “Mr Sato would like to see you in his office.”

“Me? Are you sure?”

“Yes, he has apparently been very impressed with your conduct.” The sarcasm in the supervisor’s voice was heavy and sour. He’d noticed her alright, Katsumi was a beautiful young thing, shapely, confident and about the age he liked. She’d be promoted or leave within the month. The supervisor had seen it before.

In the lift to the twelfth floor Katsumi’s mind raced. Was she going to be dismissed? Was Mr Sato looking for new talent? If so was that for the store or himself? She adjusted and re-adjusted her clothing until the lift doors opened.

She walked down the soft carpeted hall to the single desk occupied by a stern faced woman, so rigid in her posture Katsumi imagined she’d snap if she moved.

“Mr Sato asked to see me.”

“Yes. One moment.” The disapproval in her voice was like a bucket of ice water thrown in Katsumi’s face. “Mr Sato, the girl you sent for is here.” “Send her in”.

Without a word the woman raised a hand and gestured towards the door to her left. Katsumi knocked once and entered.

Sato stood, walked from behind his huge, almost empty desk and stood in front of Katsumi. He nodded a bow and offered his hand. Katsumi reciprocated and without thinking looked him straight in the eye, “Good morning Mr Sato, it is an honour to …”

“Jiro, please. Take a seat.”

Katsumi sat in one of two leather chairs in front of Sato’s desk, he took the other one.

“Katsumi, I may call you Katsumi?” It was phrased as a question but there was only one answer. “I’ve been watching you for a couple of weeks and I’d like to talk to you about your future within our business.”

“Of course Mr Sato …”

“Jiro.”

“Jiro. You’ll understand this is a little unexpected, I’ve only been here couple of months and …”

“I know, I know. Which is why I thought it best if we discuss this in a more informal setting.” His syrupy voice oozed over her, as did his stare, crawling over every part of her, shamelessly ogling every millimetre.

Sato handed Katsumi a card. “Here’s my address, I’ll let security know you’re expected. Please be there at eight o’clock prompt.” His tone indicated the meeting was over. They bowed politely and she left to take up her post at the front door. The rest of the morning was spent under the disparaging gaze of her supervisor, “Another young victim for Sato’s urges …”.

~~~

When an architect wants to impress they have a tendency to create a building that is either ultra-modern, or looks like a Greek temple. The designer of Sato’s apartment block had gone for the Greek look.

Katsumi waited patiently in the marble floored, colonnaded entrance lobby while the rather dim-witted but honest looking security guard studiously scanned the list of visitors on his computer monitor.

The ride to the penthouse was swift and smooth, the lift doors opened onto a small reception area, softly lit. As she walked out of the lift the door to the penthouse was opened by Sato. He was rather surprised at what he saw. Katsumi had chosen to wear a blonde wig, bobbed at the shoulder. She had on a long dark coat, open to reveal a short red strapless silk dress, finishing mid-thigh and red heels. Her lips were deep crimson.

“Please come in.”

Katsumi strode in, past the aghast Sato, taking ownership of the luxurious open plan apartment as she did so. Her blood rushed, excited by the moment, this was what she had always dreamed of, this was where she belonged. She scanned the penthouse, before turning round to smile at Sato.

“Can I take your coat?”

“That’s OK.” She declined, slipping the garment from her shoulders and folding it in one smooth movement. She laid it on the largest of three sofas.

“Drink?”

“Yes please Jiro. Single malt whisky.” She emphasised Jiro in a way that made him feel slightly uncomfortable for a moment. She noticed his unease and smiled, narrowing her eyes, cat-like.

He returned, hurriedly, with two lead crystal tumblers. Katsumi took one and raised it in the air between them, “To destiny.”

Katsumi took a mouthful of whisky. Her tongue played provocatively on her red-painted lips.

“I think you could do very well in retail, which is why I asked you here tonight …”

“Jiro, you asked me here tonight for one thing.”

“But!…”

“Oh shut up!” Katsumi interrupted. She grabbed Jiro by the back of his head and pressed their lips together hard. Her whisky coated tongue slid into his mouth and wrestled his into submission.

“Now we understand each other.”

In response he could only grin mutely.

Katsumi looked him in the eye. “I know what you’ve been thinking about, for weeks now. What I look like out of my suit. It’s true isn’t it? Well enjoy. She took another gulp of whisky, draining the glass and placed it on the marble coffee table. She turned her back to Sato, “Unzip me”. He complied, cock hardening to uncomfortable levels in his trousers.

She wriggled out of the dress and kicked it to one side, then with arms across her breasts turned to face him again. Sato stared at her chest. She smiled a self satisfied smile as he salivated at the though of what was hidden behind her arms. She revealed them slowly, proudly displaying their pert forms, topped with stiff brown nipples.

“Kneel.” And he did. She grabbed his head and pulled him onto a nipple, he sucked and lapped at the engorged button. After a minute or so she roughly directed him to its twin dragging him by the hair across her chest. She felt herself drunk, not with alcohol but with the power. She was not her father, subservient office fodder, devoted family man. She answered to nobody but herself. It aroused her, this control, the power, she was becoming moist as this little maggot did as he was told and suckled at her breast.

“Stand up!” He reluctantly detached from her breast and complied. “Now you undress.” He did, with the haste and inelegance of a college kid about to fuck for the first time. He was naked in front of her, clothes thrown in a heap on the floor in under a minute. She remained in her red heels and red lace panties, their crotch dark and moist from her excitement.

His cock swung in front of him, begging for attention. She dropped to her knees this time and took him into her mouth. He groaned and bucked in her mouth, hips pressing forward as soon as she was on him, wanting to fuck her mouth. But she stopped him, teasing, tasting his flowing pre-cum. She kept him at the edge until his legs almost gave way then led him to the largest sofa. He sat cock wet with her saliva laying on his stomach, half reclined next to her overcoat and eager for her pussy.

She mounted him, pulling the wet crotch of her knickers to one side and sliding onto his waiting cock. It felt good to ride him, cowgirl and in control. He simply lay there excited, eager, ready to cum, she could tell. She came first though, the excitement of the moment, the climax of a quest that had lasted five years fuelled the glowing yellow orgasm that filled her. She reached into the folds of her coat and felt the handle of her grandfather’s wakizashi.

She hesitated, remembering her father arriving home early one day and the conversation with her mother … ” … but how can they believe you embezzled that money? ” “Because Sato is a very talented accountant and a very cunning career minded young man. He also has no honour! He’s wanted my job since he stepped into accounts …”

Then the house had become almost silent, mother sobbing, father sitting in his study trying to meditate. Around midnight a scream, when her mother found him impaled on the blade which she now held. She unsheathed the sword, it rang as it left the scabbard, a true honest ring of vengeful steel. Sato was oblivious, eyes closed, smiling.

Katsumi watched the blade glint under the halogen lighting as she brought it down to rest against Sato’s throat.

His eyes snapped open. Fear filled them as he felt the razor-edged sword on his skin.

“You didn’t recognise me did you. Even the surname didn’t make you connect us?” Said Katsumi. “You last saw me at my father’s funeral.”

“Who?”

Katsumi’s lip curled into a snarl, “I am the daughter of Yasushi!”

“Oh! Oh, no, please!”

“Begging, that’s the end you deserve” She drew the sword swiftly across his throat, the full length of the blade piercing his jugular vein and windpipe. She felt the texture of the different structures in his neck as the steel sliced through them, watched as the layers of tissue peeled away. The blade flushed red as blood flowed freely along its length

Katsumi dismounted him as he thrashed around. Sato was gurgling, panicking as his life ebbed away. She looked at him, curiously, his head lolled to one side, nerves and muscles in his neck partially severed. His eyes pleaded with her, but received no mercy in return. The triumph filled her, revenge was indeed sweet. Fascinated she watched Sato’s final moments unmoving, sword held at her side, blood dripping from its tip onto the expensive carpet.

Sato soon became still, a pool of blood forming beneath him as it dripped from the sofa to the floor. She washed herself and the wakizashi in the shower, then dried the sword carefully on one of Sato’s soft fluffy towels, got dressed and left the apartment.